


Crush

by sasha_b



Series: Live By The Sword [61]
Category: King Arthur (2004), Original Work
Genre: M/M, Mild slash, Suicidal Thoughts, language.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: new beginnings are hard.  Sword 'verse; this is set in two time periods, before and right after Lance goes back to Arthur and the academy.





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> for Livi. 
> 
> Originally posted March 2009. New edit June 2018.

 

**_back_ **

There was a magnolia tree that bloomed huge and fragrant at the highest point of the park. Lance thought it wasn’t as pretty as the cottonwoods, but Arthur had liked it for its waxy green leaves and its subtleness, as he put it. _It’s not ostentatious, Lance,_ he’d said. _Dark and restrained and satisfied with itself. Green leaves, big white blooms, and that’s all. Perfect._ Lance had shaken his head at Arthur’s weirdness; who paid attention to trees, for fuck’s sake? But then Arthur never had been one to apologize for his strange interests, and Lance had been too engrossed at the time in getting his mouth on Arthur’s, so the tree conversation had been forgotten.

Until now, when Lance was sitting at his desk, and staring at the single white bloom in the simple Lennox vase that sat on the varnished wood.

“Angela,” he called out to the retreating back of his assistant – assistant; he sniggered briefly at the word – “where did this come from?”

“Um…I’m not sure, Mr. Benoit. Do you want me to get rid of it?” she answered, her voice as vacant as her pale blue eyes. He watched as she waited for his answer, her body poised to do whatever he said, her blank face an empty slate that only he filled.

Or so she said when he fucked her.

“No,” he replied, and she nodded, and went on out of the office. He stood up from behind the massive piece of furniture, and walked around so he could look out the window and see the flower as well. He cocked his head, and crossed his arms over the ridiculously expensive suit he wore. Some days he thought he should just come to the office in his pajamas, as no one would dare say anything and he’d be much more comfortable. But…conformity, and all that.  He reached out a nicely manicured hand and plucked the thing from the vase. Hesitating for a second, he stuck his nose into the middle of the blossom and sniffed deeply.

_Man, look at the sunset._

_It’s the pollution, Arthur. It makes the sky do crazy colors, and once you know that…it loses its charm. Kinda gross, really._

_Leave it to you to take the romance out of everything._

_Actually, you should be the one saying something that mundane, Castus. You’re the cynic, not me._

_Not always, Benoit._

A snort from Lancelot, but Arthur reached out and touched his chin softly.

_Look at me, and forget the gross, okay? It’s a nice evening, we’re not in school for once, and I have you to myself. See? Even that magnolia tree agrees._

Lance had rolled his eyes and began to mime throwing up, but he looked at the tree because Arthur told him to. It was bending gently in the summer air, and the smell from the thing wafted by Lance even as he turned back to meet Arthur’s eyes.

_You’re lucky I love you, because I’d seriously have to leave from all that cheese otherwise._

And he’d laughed and allowed Arthur to tug him to him, and they’d smelled the flowers and lain on the grass and Lance’s eyes snapped open, the phone jerking him out of his memories.

“Yeah.”

A pause, while Lance shifted around to sit back in his chair. “Yes, that’s fine. Have Baumann meet us at the court.”

“Not right now, Gwen. I’ve got a lot of stuff – don’t say that.” He clenched his jaw, his head beginning to hurt. He dropped the magnolia blossom on the ground, the flower forgotten as he swiveled to stare at his computer screen.

“I know what’s at stake, and I know what I have to do to get there. Never assume anything like that about me again. You know better.”  He closed the phone and pitched it across the room, the metal housing clanking against one of the big guest chairs that sat near the door.

He rolled forward to get closer to his desk, and the bloom narrowly avoided being crushed by the wheels of the chair. It sat next to Lance’s Italian leather shoe, and after a time he gradually began to wonder what the hell smelled like flowers in his office.

_**forward** _

The tub was large and the water was hot as Lance immersed himself slowly; he’d love Arthur forever if only for the man’s taste in bathroom equipment. He’d thought about the shower, but as it was late and he was alone and hey – the pine bath gel stuff was right there, and he was achy from workouts after class anyway.  His legs had a few bruises marring their whiteness, but he couldn’t recall if they were from sparring or from Arthur, and that made him smile like a goofy kid. He slid fully into the tub and shivered as the heat wafted around his skin, making it prickle as he closed his eyes. The longer parts of his hair got wet at the edges, but he was comfortable and he didn’t care.

He also briefly wondered where Arthur actually _was_ , but part of the idea of Lance spending so much time here - at least in his own mind -  was the no asking questions thing. Arthur had looked at him as if he’d told him he wanted a full body tattoo when he’d first suggested it, but Lance had stuck to his guns and had insisted that he wouldn’t ask anything of Arthur that anyone else wouldn’t ask. He had no right to expect anything, especially after…shaking his head, Lance lowered himself even more into the tub, his chin dipping into the fragrant water, forcing his mind to not think on the night he’d decided to quit working with his family - hurting others - and had come back into sane life. Life with Arthur.  
  
He clenched his hands around his knees and went a little further into the water. He could breathe, but he really liked the way the hot liquid lapped at his lips, and most of his ears were covered as well. It was as if he were in a completely safe environment where nothing, not even his own tortured thinking, could get to him.  He laid the back of his head against the porcelain, and wondered how Gwen was. And where she was, and if she was ever going to be able to talk to him without either cursing or crying. He wondered if the press would ever leave him alone, and he wondered how the academy classes would really go. He wondered if the smack he had suddenly stopped doing would ever completely leave his thoughts, and he wondered if Arthur would finally be able to forgive him his stupidity and his time away.

He wondered if _he’d_ be able to forgive himself.

That made him screw up his face despite the lovely tub and the scented water, and Lance slipped completely under, a tiny splash sounding at his entrance, his expression dark and frowning. He reached a hand up to his forehead and even through the slippery non-resistance of the water, he could feel his wrinkled skin – _don’t frown, son!  don't cry, your face will stay like that!_ – and he pinched at his face, despite being under the water, despite needing to breathe, despite wanting to feel like he’d made the right decision.

Arthur’s hands were grasping at his arms, and Lance opened his eyes, sputtering and coughing and shuddering at the difference in the temperature of the bath and the room. He shook his head, wet droplets flying from his soaked hair, and he tried to jerk out of Arthur’s hands, the grip rapidly becoming painful as the other man pulled him up out of the water.

“Lancelot!”

The voice was like doom, and Lance finally got his footing, and he stood in the tub, naked and dripping and freezing and furious at the thunderous expression on Arthur’s face. What in the world did the other man have in his life that would make him look like _that_? Lance was merely taking a bath.

“Arthur!” he yelled back, and wiped the water out of his eyes. He was shaking and shoved past the other man as he stepped out of the tub, searching for a clean towel. He found one, and wrapped it about his slender waist, eyebrows framing his face in a mirror of the expression he’d worn when he’d been under the water. He didn’t even think about that – or the fact that he was standing on something soft and squishy until Arthur flapped his hands and pushed Lance off whatever he was standing on.

“Damn it,” the other man sighed, and retrieved the now mutilated blooms that Lance had crushed. “What in the fuck were you doing?” Arthur set the flowers on the counter, sparing them one last look, and met Lance’s eyes.

“Taking a bath! What did it look like?” Lance sputtered back, his hair dripping wetly on his neck. He snatched up a hand towel from the side of the sink and scrubbed furiously, his skin turning red from the roughness of the motion. He realized that Arthur had just cursed; it wasn't a common occurrence, but Lance was angry and cold and he scrubbed harder at his hair.  “Why did you do that? And what are those?” he turned his gaze to the flowers, and then sighed as the smell hit him.

Arthur grabbed at Lance’s biceps again, but this time more gently. Lance raised an eyebrow, but stepped closer to the other man, his body still cold from the shock of being dragged from the warm womb-like environment he’d willingly placed himself in. If only he’d had a moment more…and then things might have been okay. He could have been warm and comfortable without Arthur there…if only for a minute. That’s all he’d wanted, really. Just to be warm and okay by himself, for himself, if only for just a minute….Just a minute of calm, and quiet, a minute in a place where people weren't screaming at him, or expecting things, or loving him so much he knew he couldn't possibly live up to the devotion.  Just one minute, where he could be pain free.

“You were under the water, Lance,” Arthur said, his mouth tight and his face white from worry and exhaustion. Lance bit his lip; he knew he was part of the reason for that tiredness, but he took another step closer and waited. “What were you trying to do?”

“Take a bath,” Lance said again, only this time he imagined the scene as if he had been Arthur, skidding into the bathroom, and seeing the body in the tub.  Just a minute of quiet.  

Or just a minute to -

“Oh,” he added. He smiled crookedly, weirdly, and tried to shove Arthur away. The other man wouldn’t let him, so Lancelot merely gritted his teeth and stayed where he was. He was fucking cold anyway, and if Arthur wanted to think…well, he was wrong.

“I was comfortable,” Lance said. He allowed his gaze to track up Arthur’s face, slowly, and winced visibly at the pain he found in the other man’s eyes. “I just wanted to be comfortable, even if you weren’t around and it was just me having to create it. I wasn’t doing anything…stupid. I promise you, Arthur.  I just needed some quiet."  He sighed again, and let his forehead collapse to Arthur’s chest. His hair got the other man’s shirt wet, but Arthur didn’t seem to care; he merely closed his arms about Lance’s back and let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry I left you alone for so long,” Arthur whispered, but Lance shook his head, his dark hair making funny marks on Arthur’s white button down, the dampness seeping through to Arthur’s skin.

“I’m a grown man, my Arthur," he lifted his head slightly from Arthur's chest and touched the other man's jaw with a pruned finger.  It felt stubbled and strong and it felt like _Arthur_ , and Lance cupped his face with his hand.  "I just wanted a bath, that’s all, and I guess I was thinking too hard. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone else around,” he stopped at that, and then laughed, a bitter, cracking sound that made his teeth ache, and he lowered his hand to scrub at his face.  “Correction. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone I didn’t pay to be around…around.”

Arthur merely tightened his hold on Lance, and for a moment, they stayed locked together, and Lance forgot the mistakes he’d made and the wonder about being able to get back to where he’d been before Roland had died.

_Look at me, Lance. See, even that magnolia tree agrees._

He sucked in a deep breath of Arthur’s scent, and slowly pushed himself out of the other man’s embrace. Arthur let him, and Lance finished drying off, his actions feeling methodical and painful. Must be the workouts – yeah. He pulled his sweatpants on, and looking back at the crushed flowers on the sink, he picked up a broken petal and turned it in his fingers.  “Where’d you get these from?” he asked as he caught sight of Arthur coming closer in the mirror.

“They were on the doorstep,” Arthur answered. “I thought they were for you, but there’s no note.” He also picked up a bruised blossom, and they stared together at the dark stains that marred the whiteness of the flowers.  Lance shivered, and Arthur dropped his petals. “Come on,” he said quietly. He tugged at the waistband of Lance’s sweats, and Lance obligingly followed Arthur into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, Lance watched as Arthur got undressed, and he lay on his back when Arthur got under the soft covers with him.

“Class okay?”

“Hrm,” Lancelot made a noncommittal noise. He reached out a hand and touched Arthur’s bare stomach, and the other man wound his fingers in Lance’s. They lay in silence, although Lance would be hard pressed to say it was comfortable.  Arthur’s hand shook once, and then he switched off the light with his free one. “Goodnight,” he said, after a moment of quiet.

Lance stared at the ceiling, and rolled his lips inward.

_I am not that man anymore._

_I am not that man anymore._

He turned and curled to Arthur’s side, and he felt the tremor that shook Arthur’s body as the other man held him tightly, his warm breath heating Lancelot’s neck.

“You smell like that park,” Lance murmured. Arthur smiled, and Lance threaded fingers in the curls that sprang at the other man’s nape. The hair was soft, and wrapped easily about Lance’s digits, and didn’t crush like the white flowers when Lance gripped harder.

~


End file.
